t in this; to
find the old crony of my late mother, _que en paz descanse_![43] to find
Maria Rufa, whom I had supposed dead, and her soul dwelling with the
saints, amongst the rebels--amongst the Moors I mean, and herself a
Moor: well, nothing shall make me wonder for the future."

Such were the words that our reader's friend Roque addressed to dame
Aboukar, as they were advancing toward the town of Alhaurin in a
cavalcade, of which they made a part. The venerable and sour spouse of
the ex-master of the household, was rather nettled at the valet's
impertinent freedom: he had been during the way most assiduous in
favouring her with the benefit of his remarks, which he happened to
convey with such an extraordinary licence of tongue, that the dame's
patience, which it is believed was not of the most enduring kind, at
last became completely exhausted. With much tartness and asperity,
therefore, in a discordant voice, she exclaimed, "Out upon thee, most
saucy and ungracious varlet; curb that licence of tongue, and learn to
behave in a proper manner to thy elders and betters."

"Sweet dame," quoth the valet, "I do not by any means desire to dispute
that first quality; you are certainly my elder by some good thirty
years; but at the same time, most matronly and venerable Marien, I beg
leave to differ in opinion on the second part of your assertion."

Then, as if afraid of being overheard, he muttered, in an under tone, "I
am a good Christian and ever was."

This observation did not escape Marien Rufa, who heaved a deep sigh, and
cast on Roque a look of mingled shame and resentment. She felt sorely
the rebuke, but notwithstanding the valet's impertinence, the friendship
she had entertained for his mother induced her to consider him with some
degree of interest, and prevented her from discharging on him the whole
weight of her indignation.

"Roque, Roque," she observed with sourness of aspect, "methinks you
ought not to be so enamoured of the sound of your own voice, for that
most unfortunate propensity to prating has brought you to the present
pass: remember that it was on account of your growing sententious, that
your master so unceremoniously dispensed with your services."

"Well," pertly cried Roque, "I suffer for having spoken truth, and I
glory in what I have done. By all the saints, since I reflect on the
flagrant injustice of Don Lope's conduct, and am become a martyr to my
rectitude and compassion, I find that I a